


Cover

by Morse_s Child (sherlockstummy)



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Episode Related, Episode: s03e02 Arcadia, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, case stuff, in which trewlove and morse are lovable dorks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 04:33:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6890344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockstummy/pseuds/Morse_s%20Child
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trewlove is a bit nervous about her role in the drop-off and goes to Morse for help. Mild spoilers for "Arcadia," but no real plot stuff is used.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cover

“Uh…Sir? Morse?”

Morse sat back with a grunt, stretching out his aching shoulders. He’d been so absorbed that he’d forgotten to sit up properly, and the hunch was digging daggers into his spine. He glanced up at his posture’s savior, one WPC Trewlove.

“Can I…talk to you?” Trewlove asked with uncommon shyness; Morse had only known her for a few days, but she didn’t seem the demure type. More like Joan Thursday than his sister Joyce. “They say you like a pint.”

Morse chuckled, checking his watch. “Yeah, I suppose that would be fine.” He stood up, slipping into his jacket, watching her watch him and wondering what her perceptive eyes saw. He’d only been an official member of the nick for a week or so, and she only seemed to come on these past few days. Though it wouldn’t surprise him if he just hadn’t noticed.

Morse didn’t bother leaving a number with the desk sergeant; Thursday would know how to find him if he was needed. He walked with Trewlove out of the station and into the open air. 

They walked in silence for a while. After much internal deliberation, Morse offered his arm. Trewlove accepted. It took a few steps for them to fall in comfortably with each other; Morse was bad at adjusting his strides for her and their shoes collided. Trewlove’s head brushed his shoulder, nearly knocking her hat off, and Morse elbowed her side. They pulled aside so as not to deter other pedestrians, laughing.

“Guess I should find my own footing before offering my arm,” Morse joked.

“I’ve had worse escorts,” Trewlove snorted. “At least you haven’t made a sneaky grab for my bum.”

Morse made an appalled noise and Trewlove gently pushed him, laughing. “Or trod on my toes.”

“We’re nearly there.” Morse conceded.

“You haven’t even had a drink yet!” Trewlove teased.

“And what are you like when you’ve had a few?” Morse ran a hand through his hair, fooling with the buttons on his jacket.

Trewlove took a deep breath. “I’m worried about the drop-off.”

Morse grew serious thinking about that job. It would be a risky business, but it had to be done. Normally, he wouldn’t even let himself have fun when there was work to do, but it just wasn’t in his nature to turn down a lady’s invitation. “You’ve been briefed, haven’t you?” It reminded him that Strange was technically in charge of her. It made him bristle with a sudden rush of jealousy, though he couldn’t figure out why.

Trewlove nodded. “But…our disguise.” She fumbled over the words, as if they were difficult to say. “It’s a bit…awkward. I’ve never…”

Morse blushed. “Oh.” 

“It’s stupid.” Trewlove pulled at her hair, messing up her bun. “I know it is. I’m just…I’m worried. I don’t want to seem like a blushing schoolgirl. I know what you all think of me already.” She said the last with a kind of vague coldness that Morse had only heard in the female tongue, the kind of coldness that came from being looked down on just because of a random, fifty-fifty chance. 

And here she was acknowledging that he was guilty of it, too.

“If it helps,” Morse said after a moment, “we’ll all be focused on the job.” He hesitated. “I’ve got knots in my stomach about it, too.”

“You don’t have to be that close to Stran-Sergeant Strange,” Trewlove corrected herself. “…Would you have struggled keeping your pint down, then?”

Morse smiled wryly. “Probably not.”

They chuckled again. Her elbows and arms brushed his with familiarity as she fixed her bun. Despite everything, it made the contact points light up warm like fire on his skin. He was content, he told himself, to be her friend. He was surprised to not be hurt by the revelation.

“We could practice,” Morse said without realizing what he’d said. It happened far often than he would like to admit, his words running away with him like that. 

Trewlove turned to look at him. “What?” It was a confused “what,” not a “Morse, you’re talking crazy” what.

“Practice what you have to do. So you don’t feel awkward.”

“You’re having me on.”

“I’m not! Honest.” Morse held up his hands defensively as Trewlove loomed.

Finally, the blonde quirked her eyebrow and they both caved, relaxing again into easy familiarity. “Honestly. We’ve established I’m not that sort of copper.” Morse added.  
Trewlove snorted. “We have. I’m going to hold you to that, Constable.”

“On my honor, Constable.”

Trewlove braced herself against the wall, then nodded at him. “I’m ready.”

Morse took a deep breath, then braced one arm against the wall with the other in his pocket, effectively cornering her. He was farther than Strange would have to be to allow him to run past in the actual job, but he didn’t want to presume.

But Trewlove, evidently over being shy, grabbed hold of his tie. “You’re too far out.” She yanked him closer, and he nearly fell into her when his bad hip buckled. “You’d trip over him.”

Morse positioned himself closer, his hips touching hers, one of his knees slightly between hers. They were nose to nose, nearly sharing breath.

Trewlove giggled.

Morse inched back. “What?”

“Nothing! You’re so serious!”

Morse, confused, gave a half-laugh. “Did you want me to kiss you or something?”

“Heavens no! Take me on a date first!” Trewlove brushed his shoulder, then reached up to loosen his tie a bit. “You smell nice. I don’t think Strange will smell quite like you do.”

That made Morse snort. “Thanks. It’s the laundry soap.”

Trewlove swatted him, adjusting her uniform. As he straightened himself out, she looked at him genuinely. “Thank you. For letting me practice on you.”

Morse smiled. “Any time.”

“Now.” Trewlove held her arm out, ready to take his. “I think that pint I owe you is way overdue.”

“Yes m’am.” Morse held out his arm and she took it.

“And maybe a pub sandwich, too. It’s getting on lunch time.” Morse chuckled.

They walked in compatible silence, more in-sync this time. Trewlove’s head drifted to his shoulder and Morse’s heart took flight. 

“Trewlove?”

“Hmm?”

“You smell nice, too.”


End file.
